


Reality

by EmberSkye



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberSkye/pseuds/EmberSkye
Summary: A deviant Connor fic set after the machine Connor route. It somewhat includes hostile Hank. But all in all, it's mainly Connor panicking and experiencing new emotions.





	Reality

**Author's Note:**

> I always, always forget to add Connor interacting with Sumo. I don't typically have animals in my stories, so it's hard to get used to. I'll fix that in the future. Hope you guys like it!

Silence, dark rooms, and a gunshot. There had been a small confrontation, some apologies, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Nothing he could say would reverse this. Nothing he believed or didn’t believe would amend for his actions. He had to live with this. He had to live with the reality of what had happened to his partner. What he had  _ done _ to his partner. Hank was gone. Dead, shot through the head.

Gone.

~

Connor finds himself stuck in the rain, wandering the streets of Detroit while living with the reality of his situation. Hank was gone. He had actually done it. He had finally won, and it had all been Connor’s fault. All of the cold words, the cold stares, the times he’s died. It taunted him. He wanted to take it back, take back his actions, his mistakes. He wanted to take back Hank Anderson’s life. 

But all of it was gone now. It had slipped through his fingers. If only he had been kinder, if only he had fostered hope. He had found himself wanting to, through the process, through his actions before all of  _ this _ , but he always pulled himself back. The mission. Nothing was more important than the mission. Connor now sees how goddamn wrong he was. He wanted to destroy himself. He wanted to just,  _ not exist.  _

Perhaps that’s what’s going to happen. When he returns to the garden, Amanda is there, but someone else is too. RK900, she calls him. His reward, his  _ replacement. _ He’s going to be decommissioned, upgraded. He wonders if his memories will be transferred to this model. He knows that they will not. Realistically, he knows that this is his end. He feels he should just accept it, he  _ did _ want to die after all, but he felt it shouldn’t be this way. He can’t be replaced. Can’t. There’s no way; no way they’ll just destroy him like that. He had accomplished his mission. Amanda was proud of him,  _ proud _ of his accomplishments. Why is this his repayment? Why should he just cease to exist?

This can’t be the end. He wants to live, but doesn't. He wants to die but feels he’s needed somewhere. His mind rushes over every possibility of what he could do. He could leave, start a new life, run away. But he can’t. He needs a passport to do that. There’s no way he could obtain one. He can’t pose as a human. They still do temperature checks. He would be killed on the spot. 

Connor wanders around some more. He’s thoroughly soaked by now, but he pays it no mind as his demeanor has changed from saddened to panicked. Amanda would be coming after him, he needed to think quickly.

What could he do? What  _ does _ he do? There was nothing he could think of, nothing he could salvage. He needed to hide. He needed something to make him convincing. He’d need to remove his LED. He’s need to get rid of his jacket.

So he does. He finds a nearby stick and plunges it into his artificial skull. He tears the LED from its place and doesn’t even bother looking for it as it falls. He tears off his jacket next, and discards it behind a bush. 

With both items gone, Connor looks more human, but he doesn’t feel anymore so. His hands are shaking, and his legs feel weak. He needs something,  _ anything _ to convince others he’s human. Humans believe compassion, half the time. He doesn’t want to be evil anymore, so he wills his mind to come up with anything, anything at all that would convince people he’s just a human, trying to protect what he loves. Finally, he thinks of something.

_ Sumo.  _ It’s perfect. Sumo is all alone. With Hank gone, there’s no one to take care of him. Maybe he can keep Sumo in honor of Hank? Maybe he can prove to himself that he isn’t just a machine. He can feel, he can love, he can survive, and if Sumo is the way to prove that, then he’ll take it. Connor already knows Sumo likes him, so he thinks up a plan. They’ll get to the border. He’ll leave with his dog in tow. Maybe along the way he’ll find someone who will fabricate a passport? Or maybe he’ll take Sumo and they’ll live in one of Detroit’s many abandoned houses?

He opts for the latter. With all of the other androids gone, Connor knows there’s no chance he’ll find a passport. There’s no way any humans will want to help him. He has to do this on his own. So he sets off to Hank’s house for the second time that night. He tries not to think of what he’ll find there.

~

When Connor makes it to Hank’s house, it’s dark. Not that he was expecting anything else, but the dark feels stifling, heavy. He feels like he’s suffocating, and it gets worse as he gets closer to the door. His hands shake as they grip the door handle, and suddenly, he hesitates. He can’t do this. He can’t. He doesn’t want to see Hank, on the ground, brains blown out all over the counter behind him. He wants to run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he opens the door, and closes his eyes against the darkness, as the kitchen is immediately in view. He can’t look. Can’t see. There’s static in his ears, in his eyes. Hank’s dead. Hank’s dead.  _ He needs to get out of here. _

Connor almost turns and runs, but notices a sudden change as he spins on his heels. He begrudgingly opens his eye to see light. He realizes a switch has been flipped, but how, he doesn’t know. Hank couldn’t have done it, and there’s no logical way Sumo could have done it. He hadn’t touched anything.  _ What was going on? _

A chair moves, and Connor’s eyes move slowly to the source of the noise. He sees something he wasn’t expecting, and he freezes. What he expects to be Hank’s lifeless body, is actually the sight of a man stretching and moaning about being  _ too old for this shit. _ His hands are raised above his head, and Connor hears a few distinct cracks before the older man looks at Connor and rattles off something about where he had been.

“You realize I had the  _ entire  _ fucking police department after you?” Hank’s words are filled with anger, but there’s also something soft behind it. Tired almost. Connor is confused.

“H-Hank?” Connor chokes on his partner’s name, and suddenly feels the life drain out of him. He drops to the ground, too shocked to do anything but shake and stare. Hank sees this, and rushes over. He has no idea what’s going on. Is the kid hurt? What was wrong?

“I’m here, I’m here, son.” Hank places his hands on Connor’s shoulders, assessing any damage. He notices a gaping hole on Connor’s temple, where his LED used to be, and watches as thirium drips from its surface. The thirium drips to Connor’s button-up, and Hank also notices Connor’s lack of a jacket. “What happened? Connor, tell me what happened.” Hank’s tone is demanding, but Connor doesn’t react to it. 

“Y-you’re dead,” Connor says. His ears fill with static again. This can’t be real. Hank’s dead. He had heard the gunshot. “This… this isn’t real.  _ You  _ aren’t real.” Connor shakes his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, and refuses to acknowledge whatever was going on. This has to be a dream,  _ has to.  _

Logically, Connor knows androids don’t dream, but it’s the only thing he can think of. Hank isn’t here. He’s just a figment of his imagination. If he opens his eyes, the Hank in front of him will be gone. He’ll vanish, and there will be nothing left but the husk of a man Connor should have had enough insight to help. His guilt eats at him. He wishes he could take everything back.

“I’m sorry,” Connor says, there are tears in his eyes. He feels so alone. “I’m sorry, Hank. I should have-” He feels the fake Hank cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes just as the tears start to spill over. Hank’s saying something, but Connor finds there’s too much static to hear what he says. He tries however, and wills the static to clear.

“Connor!” Connor finally hears. “Listen to me kid, you’re alright,” Hank uses his thumb to rub away some of the tears. “Calm down, breathe. C’mon kid. Breathe with me.” Connor finds his hand pulled to Hank’s chest. He feels how Hank breathes, and tries to mimic it. His stress levels, which he finds to be very high, start to ebb. The static starts to clear away, but his confusion doesn’t. Hank’s dead, or he’s supposed to be. Why wasn’t he? Had he decided against it? Had he stopped last second?

No, that didn’t make sense. He had heard the gunshot. He had heard the specific  _ bang _ , heard the way it rang out, and how much pain it probably caused. He had heard it. He swore he had heard it. He wasn’t lying.  _ He wasn’t- _

“Kid!” Hank practically screams in his face. Connor realizes he had been lost in thought. Hank was still in front of him and a glance to the kitchen reveals there being no body. It was empty. He was so very confused. “Connor, tell me what happened,” Hank says. He wears a look of concern, but Connor still can’t keep himself from thinking this is all fake. He doesn’t know how, but it has to be.

“You’re dead,” Connor says again, though this time he sounds more heartbroken than panicked. “I heard the gunshot. After I left,” Connor feels his breath quicken again. Hank squeezes his shoulder to ground him. “Y-you killed yourself. Hank, this can’t be real.” Connor feels fresh tears fall. Hank processes his words, and finds himself extremely confused at them.

“Connor,” He says. Connor had cast his eyes away from Hank, so he pulls the android by the chin so that he can see Hank as he talks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he moves his hand to cup Connor’s cheek again, his thumb working away more tears. He steadies his voice, and tries to sound grounding. He’d be lying if he said this wasn’t unsettling. He had no idea where the kid was getting all of this. “You went out to the store this morning, like you always do on Thursdays.” 

Connor looks even more confused at this, like his entire world had been questioned. “You usually come back within a few hours, but this time you didn’t,” Hank’s expression changes to one of sorrow, though it quickly changes back to the soft expression he had been trying to keep throughout all of this. “I thought something had happened to you,” Hank pauses, “I was worried.”

Connor ponders this, like he didn’t believe it. He searches his memory for any truth to Hank’s words. Then he finds it. Corruption. Damage to his files. It all comes back to him at once. Hank’s not dead. He’s alive, and Connor’s been living with him since the successful,  _ peaceful _ revolution. He’s relieved, to say the least, and even he remembers what may have caused this. It’s hard, but he pulls up a memory despite the fuzziness he feels when trying to access it.

“Hank,” Connor says. Hank hums in response, but doesn’t say anything. He can tell Connor has something to say. “That criminal we chased yesterday, he pushed me into a wall,” if Connor had his LED, it would be spinning yellow. Hank knows this and is reminded of the hole in Connor’s temple. He makes a mental note to ask what had happened later. For now, he listens. “I believe I may have sustains a head injury, which caused a malfunction in my memory’s storage. I’ve already found the corrupted files. These may have fabricated events in my mind that did not happen.” Connor seems satisfied with his conclusion. Hank’s just glad the kid has stopped panicking.

“Okay? What do you need to do to fix it?” Hank asks. Connor thinks for a moment, like he having trouble, but comes up with an answer soon enough.

“I will have to enter rest mode so that I can manually fix the damage,” Connor looks scared for a second. He fidgets with the cuffs of his button down and Hank watches as his demeanor changes to nervousness.  “There is a chance I could lose data. If that happens, I could turn back into a machine.”

Hank gulps. They had made huge strides recently. Connor had been growing into himself, he had been developing, becoming wittier, kinder, more  _ human.  _ He didn’t want to lose that progress. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t want to lose someone he sees as family.  _ No, as a son.  _ He thinks.

“Hank, if that happens-” Connor tries to continue, but stops in his tracks when Hank pulls him into a crushing hug. They stay like that for several seconds. Connor feels like he should finish his thoughts, but he stops himself when Hank pulls out of the hug, holding Connor at arms length, and looking at him with the softest expression Connor’s ever seen.

  
“That won’t happen,” Hank says. “And if it  _ did,  _ I would just have to kick sentience back into that thick skull of yours.” Hank gives Connor a kind smile, and Connor chuckles at the image of Hank doing so. “I trust you, son. It’ll be alright.” Connor nods, and for the first time that night, believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> My best friend made me sit through the machine Connor route. Like the true one. 
> 
> To help calm myself down, I came up with an idea where Connor becomes sentient right as Hank pulls the trigger. He's so overcome with guilt, that he tries to make up with it by taking care of Sumo in Hank's honor. That's what I kinda went with here. But Hank was never really dead.


End file.
